Archive for in celebration of the absurd

Today’s Secret Word is “Barfday”

Posted in Art Lover, Dork Alert, Goof & Glamour, I Heart Funny Fellas, In Celebration of the Absurd, Star F*#ker, Style & Fashion, Technicolor Pop, Top 2% of Coolest Mofos, TV, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 28, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Happy Freakin’ Barfday, Peewee!

Hooray! It’s Peewee Herman’s birthday! Don’t know how old he is, don’t care. It hardly matters. Peewee’s oddly timeless.

I adore Peewee Herman and count him among the top 2 % coolest mofos (of the magical sort) on planet Earth.

I worship the H*Man. So I was damn sure gonna celebrate his birthday with sacred acts of tom-foolery. To keep my play pure, I’d —  of course! — avoid all adult responsibilities while evading mind-numbing normals.

I’d planned an ambitious day of play;  loll about on chatty chairs, ram things with my shiny pink bicycle. (A virtual valentine of a bike!) 

I was gonna cater to the id.

But I couldn’t let the day pass without wishing Herman a happy Barfday.

Barfday?

AAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!

I meant to say that! Barf barf barf day!

Happy Barfday, Mr. Peeee-weee… happy barfday to you.

Hope the day was good to you.

Hope the playhouse is over-flowing with cake, frosting, bows, balloons, jewels, cash, pills. And, of course, psychedelic butterflies with google eyes who’ll quickly morph — as needed — into bowties. So many dandy-fop bowties! In a neon rainbow of hues!

Hope Capt. Carl & Cowboy Curtis treated you to a tequila shot or two.

Hope Miss Yvonne spoiled you with a “gentleman’s choice” — whatever that means.

Hope your birthday (so far) has been really freakin’ cool.

Psst.

Today’s secret word is “barfday.”

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Yes, I was including wordpress among adult activities, what of it?

*The cubist Hermans are by Tommervick, whose modern take on cubism has reconfigured everyone from Elvis to Mr. Rogers. Spock too. I swear.

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Happy Birthday, Sam I Am!

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, I Heart My Love-Tribe, In Celebration of the Absurd with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on August 12, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Today is the 50th birthday of the Dr. Seuss classic “Green Eggs and Ham” which is undoubtedly one of the most amazing literary masterpieces of all time. Seuss wrote the genius gem after his publisher bet him that he couldn’t write a book using only 50 words. A fine 5o words they are!

Dr. Seuss was a true poet and a gentleman of letters. He was a master of surrealism and a great hero of mine. 

I could not, would not, in a house.
I would not, could not, with a mouse.
I would not eat them with a fox.
I would not eat them in a box.
I would not eat them here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I would not eat green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am.

I’ll be celebrating the book’s birthday by introducing it to my niece — Thing 2 — for the first time! She’s nearly 2 and it’s high time she fell in love with Seuss. I’m sure we’ll read it about 50 times.

50 words, 50 times, 50 years.

Maybe I’ll be a real go-getter and whip up a batch of green-egg cookies … mine will be like these:

Rather than like these fancy-schmancy hams. Hey, I’m not that ambitious!

I gotta save my energy for repeated animated readings. My niece refuses to let others read to her, claiming they don’t do it right. Naturally this is an enormous source of pride for this book-worm Aunty.

Enjoy this book’s birthday, y’all! Maybe a ham & spinach omelet for dinner??

Green Eggs and Ham is available on amazon!

My Sexual Custody

Posted in I Heart Funny Fellas, In Celebration of the Absurd with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 23, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Mike O’Connell has me in his sexual custody!

Looks like maybe he’s got you all a-tingle too. I see you enjoyed the hell outta this surrealist comic the last time I featured him — Gotta Lotta Bitches to Plow — so I know you’re gonna wanna see him perform his moving song “Baboon Heart.” 

That poor baboon loved you very much and he hopes you change your mind soon. He misses your legs and he misses your lips, he misses your touch and he misses your tits. Especially your tits. DID I MENTION YOUR TITS? I think I did.

Damn! Mike O’Connell is a SEXY BEAST!

Pass it on.

Gotta Lotta Bitches To Plow

Posted in Buxom Goo Goo, I Heart Funny Fellas, I heart hip hop, I like big butts & I can not lie, Technicolor Pop with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 10, 2010 by alphabetfiend

So have you been paying any attention to this surreal mo-fo, Mike O’Connell? The man is insanely hilarious, emphasis on the insane. For those of you who adore the absurd, Mike O’Connell is for you.

As Million Dollar Strong, Mike O’Connell teams up with Ken Jeong for the hysterical hip-hop send up “What’s it gonna be?” Normally, I’d quote some of it for ya but I think I’ll stay mum this time and let you get it as it comes.  OK! Just one! I can’t resist.

I think your ass looks delicious…
uhhh huhhh!!
I got ta get my dick in your britches…

Ah, such sweet poetry. OK, now, if you have anything in your mouth make sure you swallow cause it WILL come shooting out yer nose when you start cracking the hell up.

Heaven Makes Some People Horny (adult content)

Posted in Buxom Goo Goo, Fur Reals, In Celebration of the Absurd, Sex & XXX, Sexuality, Sexy Bitch Steampunk yum, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2010 by alphabetfiend

I once knew a kinky slut who wanted to be fucked by Jesus.

To a certain extent, I can dig it. I did have a HUGE thing for the Lizard King, even with his grizzly madman christ-poet beard. I wrote a poem about going down on Gustav Klimt and I dry-humped Amelia Earhart in one very lovely dream. I was building some kind of steampunk orgasmatron in an old barn when Amelia was forced to crash land her silver airplane in the field out yonder. Humps & hi-jinks ensued.  But that chick, with her particular kind of “jesus trip,” she wasn’t being all sassy and symbolic and referential. It wasn’t even about irreverence. She wanted to be Mrs. Jesus Christ or, fail that, then she’d have been happy just to feel his warm jizz on her face. 

As weird as that chick was, she wasn’t really all that weird. There’s plenty of freaks who wanna get their freak on with Jesus H. Or Krishna. Or the Buddha. Personally, I’d rather get syphilis from Baudelaire. My crushes are more deviant than divine. But for some, it doesn’t get much better than up high. How’s the saying go? Once you go holy, you never go lonely?  Religion and sex have knocked boots plenty. They go way back. Think Zeus with his penchant for mortals. Picture Pan — watching from the shore as maidens romp merrily in the crick, a vision that has caused an uproar in his fetid nether-region. Trance out to the swan-song of St. Teresa as she ecstatically rejoices. Damn, she loves those flaming arrows.

We’ve been boinking the gods and the gods have been booty-callin’ us ever since creation. Ever since there was an us to dream gods up. Ever since there were gods to form us from the dirt like golems. We each depend on the other for existence — we each create the other — and where there’s creation, there’s sex.

Where there’s pollen, there’s bees.

Now we can be both deviant & divine

So why am I surprised to find that a company like Divine Interventions is creating products like these? Holy holes!

Finally, a crucifix that you can safely stick up in ya! For those in need of an exorcist, this day could not come soon enough.

Me, I’d rather bless myself with the Virgin Mary… which I’d order in a spiritual hue, such as violet or prayer-robe blue. But you, you might prefer to bury “The Diving Nun” like you were smuggling Gulliver. Or maybe you’re dying to punish Judas for his sins. Bad bad bad boy. If your sacrilege has eastern leanings, then you’ll wanna use Buddha’s belly to wiggle your jiggle like a bowl full o’ spermicide jelly. 

That’s right, sinners, there’s something here for everyone! Every heathen under the red hot sun. Yes, that means you, you jew. You too can have Moses deliver you to promised land.  

For that special brand of anal-retentive weirdo (or for collectors of absurd ephemera, such as myself) there’s “The baby Jesus butt plug.”

Oh, yes, we’re all going straight to hell.

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